January 2020

Bomb map

I saw the bomb map yesterday,before I was exploded: paper-bag-brown tags like a deflated concertinalitter the streetsspatter the battered pastlike lost letters, sorted butno longer expected And ghosts, too –captured light emergingfrom another dimensiondisplaying the precision of chance –one house…

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Christmas Day is emptyno-one passes by:blackbirds wait beside the door,there’s nothing in the sky and I in my home scarhunkering downlike a long-lived limpet, familiarwith this part of town